Could've Been Saved ⇢ 𝒕𝒎𝒓 & 𝒉𝒋𝒑

6

As Harry watched through the small slit between the wardrobe doors how Dumbledore entered the room, Harry had to bite his lip down when Tom did something quite foolish. Instead of greeting him like a normal person would've, he gave off a mild gasp, then said in an alarmed tone, 'Please, sir, do not light my closet on fire, won't you?'

'Huh? Now why would I do that?' Dumbledore chuckled nervously and gave a reassuring look back to where Mrs Cole was presumably still standing in the doorway as though telling her those weren't his intentions.

'Someone warned me this could happen.' Tom answered truthfully.

'Well then, don't worry about that, Tom. This wasn't what I came here for.'

'What did you come here for?' Tom shot out his answer, not breaking his stare from Dumbledore as he walked around him to sit on the bed. Slowly, Tom lowered himself on the wooden chair behind him. 'You're the doctor, aren't you?'

'No, I'm a professor.' Dumbledore said, and from there on the conversation Harry remembered continued, which was a weird thing to witness given he had seen this before in a memory, now without the eery green tint.

'I don't believe you,' Tom said softly. 'She wants me looked at. I think I'm...different,'

'Well, perhaps they're right.'

'I'm not mad,' Tom stressed.

'Hogwarts is not a place for mad people.' Dumbledore reassured him. 'Hogwarts is a school...a school of magic.'

There was a long pause before Dumbledore spoke again. 'You can do things, can't you, Tom? Things other children can't,'

In the wardrobe Harry got increasingly more nervous. If either of them forgot about the promise of not putting fire near the wardrobe, he could be in serious trouble. Not because of the flames themselves, but because Tom would walk over there and open the doors, and then Dumbledore would see him and Harry wasn't too sure what that would mean for the future.

The next time Harry listened in on the conversation Dumbledore was already saying he dangerous line: 'Well, I'm like you, Tom. I'm...different,'

'Prove it.' Tom spat, like daring him to, but then he seemed to remember something and added, '—without making my wardrobe go up.'

And that was the cut. Everything went well until Harry felt something dropping, hard, on his feet then shortly beginning to rap against down them in the size of a big tome, making a hell of a noise which could probably be traced back down to the rundown backyard of the orphanage.

'I think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out, Tom.' Dumbledore announced merrily.

Of course this made Tom ultra suspicious, he quietly eyed him, not looking like he was going to stand up to go see for himself any time soon. In that moment Harry couldn't be more thankful for Tom's past which was riddled with tragedy. He even silently thanked Tom's father for abandoning him because this made Tom distrust older men as of now, including Dumbledore.

On the bed Dumbledore cleared his throat awkwardly and in the same moment the thing hammering against Harry's feet smacked down, stood still, then disappeared again.

'Let's forget about that, yes? The only thing hiding in there would probably be your sexuality anyway.'

Dumbledore laughed forcibly, inviting Tom to join in on the joke, but Tom didn't move a muscle on his face expect the ones in his eyebrows that moved them closer together.

'Not funny? Okay, let's see then,' Dumbledore scanned the room, probably thinking of another way to impress Tom. Then his observation stopped on the desk drawer and he began narrowing his eyes.

While he was doing that, Tom's suspicion rose for a second time, and he looked like he was going to ask him to stop doing whatever he was doing, but then a plonk sounded from inside the drawer and it burst open like a lizards tongue catching after a fly.

'Santa Clauses Christmas cookies!' Tom swore upon jumping up from his seat and backing way back towards the door. 'What have you done? Is this an attack?'

There was a worried look hanging on Dumbledores face, as if he actually contemplated for a moment wether he should tell Mrs Cole to go ahead and arrange a doctor to see Tom, but then his expression softened and he chuckled gently. 'It's nothing of worry, Tom. Just have a look, you'll understand then.'

'The deceased don't have to understand about death once they're buried five feet under,' Tom said seriously. 'what makes this any different...'

Dumbledore blinked. 'You think a lot about death, don't you?'

'And so what? It's where the circle of most life forms end, it's only fair to say I do.'

'Tom, please just have a look.' Dumbledore said, obviously in an attempt to steer the topic away from the current one.

And then finally, after another moment of wariness, Tom set out careful step after another until he came to a halt one foot in front of the open drawer, stooping over it as if he was staring back into his reflection in a pond. Then his shoulders relaxed and he took a box out from inside it, looked at it and turned towards Dumbledore in one robot-like move. He reached towards the lock and pried the lid open carefully which gave with an oily creak.

As he examined the things Dumbledore spoke up again, more gentler than he already was to begin with. 'Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom. At Hogwarts you're not only taught how to use magic, but how to control it. You understand me?'

In the following silence Tom was giving Dumbledore the deadliest look from under his hooded lids, waiting for him to step out of the room until he blurted out, 'I can speak to snakes too...' His voice mellowed innocently. 'Is that...normal for someone like me?'

The door clicked shut. Apparently this was too much for Dumbledore to handle.